Hearth and Hold
by CobaltTungsten
Summary: Millennia have come and past since the Obsidian War, leaving scars that never truly healed in those who came after. Yet, after all this time, the scattered Tribes of the Orcs are once again being harassed and their Home-Holds burned. Though few question the 'Why' of it, it comes down to the worse question: How shall they deal with it?


Those who use the saying 'Silent as the Grave' obviously have never been to one… the silence is deafening… yet Garron was becoming accustomed to this. Garron, to say he was a mountain of a man would hardly do him justice, though even for an Orc he had been blessed with power of body. His dark hair caught the ash-ridden breeze as he scanned the charred remains. He could feel his blood temper rising, it was all he could do to keep himself from frenzy.

"Another Clan-Hold cremated." Varosh spoke in his gravely tone. Garron grunted lowly in ascent.

"The Valan Tribe has lost four of it's Clans in six months. At this rate the Valan will probably cry for the Right of Arbitration." Garron replied, looking at Varosh. Varosh was an Elder Shaman, his hair graying and his brow creased from years of contemplation.

"Who would oppose? Look at what has come upon them." It was difficult to see, harder to believe. Men, women, children, sick, and elderly… all dead. Their bodies reduced to bones and ash. It would be impossible to bury all their dead as tradition dictated. No family to unite in the Mourntime Celebration. No memories to bring peace to the living or dead. "Any Orc who would oppose would be seen as Bloodless."

"What shall we do with the Hold remains?"

"Nothing, the fire has destroyed and incinerated the Hold in it's entirety. Their vessels have already returned to the Earth, and their memories have been scoured clean by the flames. All we can do for them now, is remember this for them, bring the news back to the City-Hold to the Tribes that have already gathered."

"Their memories are also kept within their butchers. I would think scouring those moments from existence would bring them peace." Garron's voice rumbled out. Varosh placed a hand over Garron's heart and sighed.

"Do not allow yourself to fall victim to the Blood Sickness, Garron. Do not forget our Ancestors were led astray by an Evil man who knew how to manipulate our people." After several moments Garron recomposed himself and turned from the devastation.

"That was a long time ago, Varosh."

"Not long enough for the world to forget."

* * *

Battle of Obsidian Pass

3,000 Years Ago

Seshua stood with his arms folded as he looked out from the Castle walls, his eyes alight with malign intent. He stood unmoving, as if he himself were one of the many gargoyles that permeated the castle, his skin was pale and taut, yet when looking at him straight on it was as if you could not truly see him. As if he was nothing more than a heat-shimmer, or a memory of something you believed you might have seen. His gaze seemed to stretch on far beyond what sight could bring, as if he was looking into the distance, but as if he was seeing into the lands and homes of every creature and person.

"My Lord, a message from Blacknight Vamgut." Seshua slowly turned and eyed the cowed Imp. It held a letter in it's shaking hands. Reaching down to retrieve the letter he saw the Imp reflexively tremble, as if fighting the urge to flee.

"Do not fret, my servant. I shall not slay you over poor news." Seshua said as he took the note. The Imp still trembled, but visibly relaxed.

 _Blacknight Teru and Blacknight Jalon are dead, killed by Elfling Prince Damion in the mouth of the Obsidian Pass. One Orc legion, and all accompanying Trolls, Goblins, Imps, and Ferals have been destroyed. My legion as well as Blacknight Malvous stand within the pass to forestall the Man-Tribe, Elf-Prides, and Dwarf-Kin armies._ _Will report when I have engaged the enemy._

 _Blacknight Vamgut_

Seshua remained expressionless as he read the note. Once finished he merely folded it back up and handed it back to the Imp whom had delivered it.

"Expected, but disappointing all the same."

"My Lord, shall I compose an order from you to Vamgut?" the Imp asked. Seshua's face sneered into a disturbing mockery of a grin as he turned to the Imp.

"Yes, you will."

"My Lord! You said you would not slay me!" Seshua reached out to the Imp. The hatred and bloodthirst seemed to radiate like a heat from Seshua.

"I said I would not slay you over bad news… Slaying you shall be my orders… to not disappoint me again." Seshua's voice seemed to linger in the air for many more moments as he wrested the life from the Imp.


End file.
